Below Stairs
by Sylvie Orp
Summary: Bodie and Doyle are taken on as valets to Lord & Lady Uppingham


Bodie & Doyle had been assigned to Snowsden Manor to mingle with the staff below stairs while keeping an eye on proceedings upstairs. A secret meeting was planned there, and it was CI5's job to make sure that they weren't interrupted. Lady Uppingham was a formidable woman with a keen eye and a sharp brain. Under her captaincy, Snowsden Manor had become a safe haven for discreet talks among those who required secrecy and discretion. The only fly in the ointment, from her point of view - and everyone else's - was her brother, Henry. What Lady Emily had, Henry lacked - a brain, common sense, and a view of the world. His only world was the happy world he inhabited internally. One couldn't say that he was mentally defective but, to put it kindly, he had several cards short of a full deck. Lady Emily had tried to marry him off but even gold diggers wouldn't have him. Fortunately his various hobbies - clay pigeon shooting (he couldn't be trusted with live game), and dahlias (the safest of all his hobbies) - usually kept him away from Lady Emily's guests and meetings. Her visitors didn't need to invent elaborate reasons for their being at Snowsden Manor, as Lord Uppingham rarely remembered who they were or what they said. So it was that Bodie and Doyle were not introduced to him as it would only confuse him, and their duties were light. The staff were merely told that they were undercover policemen and not to ask them questions. They were naturally agog and bursting with curiosity, but left them alone (and gossiped amongst themselves). Most of the staff lived out, but Bodie and Doyle were found a room under the eaves so they could be on site all the time. They set up the scrambler there and reported in to HQ each evening before bed.

The meeting they were to watch over was between a group of Palestinians and a group of Israelis who were seeking ways to find common ground to take home. There were factions on both sides, however, trying to make sure that that didn't happen. The agents took up their employment and residence a week before the arrival of the guests to get a feel of the place, to find out who was who, and the general rhythm of the household. They had both been dismayed at being 'servants' but Cowley had rumbled ominously and the pair knew that they had better back down before the volcano of Cowley's wrath erupted. Cowley would drop by the stately home now and then as an alleged friend of Lord and Lady Uppingham.

The delegates arrived as planned. There were no guards with them, but Bodie and Doyle had been prowling around the grounds and knew most of the possible hiding places the estate had to offer. After serving everyone tea and coffee on arrival, the agents left to check out these hidey holes for guards - for or against the delegation. However, they were waylaid by Lord Uppingham before they could make it to the outside world.

"You there." Doyle turned. "Yes, you. I've seen you prowling around. Not a burglar are you?" Before Doyle could respond, Lord Henry turned to Bodie. "And you, sir. Don't get physical with me, young man. I can take you on you know. I'm not a duke without learning a thing or two."

The two agents suppressed a smile at this dotty, middle-aged, overweight 'child'. It was unfortunate that he was drawing attention to them but, hopefully, Lady Emily was keeping all her guests diverted and entertained in the drawing-room.

"We're on the staff," Doyle quickly explained.

"Are you? Are you sure? Damned if I've seen you before. You do look familiar though." The lord stared more closely, and rather myopically, at his servant.

"Mr Hardy thinks very highly of us," Bodie added, drawing on the name of the butler in the hope that it would ring some bells in Henry's vacant brain.

"Oh, well, that's all right then. Carry on."

They thanked him and made their escape. It was cold and wet outside and the light was beginning to fade.

"We need more than two of us, Doyle," Bodie muttered into the gloom.

It was a complaint he'd made to the boss and there was a vague promise of further agents on the job but so far, nothing. Nothing in the grounds either, as far as they could make out. Now that the guests had arrived, they agreed to a split shift. Doyle would prowl around till 3 a.m, then he'd rouse Bodie and he would take the rest of it till they reported to Mr Hardy for duty in the morning. Mr Hardy, who lived in, was informed of their nocturnal prowling, as was Lady Emily. She didn't like the idea of staff roaming around her home throughout the night but understood the need for it. The pair didn't need to find excuses to attend the meeting room, as they'd bugged it (unknown to their hosts), but appreciated Lady Emily's attempt to get them in the room now and then to eavesdrop and to serve drinks and refreshments (trained up by Mr Hardy himself). Doyle took the role of valet as just part of the varied life of a CI5 agent; Bodie chaffed and said it was demeaning, all this tugging of forelocks in this day and age. Doyle grinned at Bodie's predictable attitude.

The following day, the delegates were still there and still, it seemed, talking to each other. Bodie was taking his professional eye around the grounds again while Doyle was laying out cups and saucers in the drawing-room ready for the next meeting. Lord Uppingham entered with one of the delegates, Haziz. Both sides of the talks were in two minds whether Lord Uppingham was the amiable buffoon he portrayed, or whether he was cunningly disguising a razor-sharp mind.

"Ah, Freddie," he enthused to Doyle and hugged him warmly, causing Doyle to drop the cup he was holding. "My son. So proud of him. Ace at tennis, don't you know," he explained happily to his guest, spinning Doyle round and slapping him on the chest. Haziz smiled indulgently.

"Lord Uppingham," Doyle said quietly, trying to extricate himself from the tight hug, "I'm not Freddie."

"Aren't you?"

Haziz' smile led to a broad grin at the servant's discomfort.

"Master Freddie is still at university, sir." Fortunately Doyle had done his homework. Freddie was in fact Lord Henry's nephew who lived with them after the death of Freddie's parents when he was a child.

"Then what are you doing here, masquerading as someone you're not, eh?"

That was too close to the truth. Damn the man. Shouldn't Lady Emily lock him up in some home for gentle loony folk?

"I'm not masquerading, sir. I'm the valet."

"Well, you look damnably like Freddie."

Fortunately Lady Emily entered at that point and took charge of the situation, shooing her brother to another part of the house. She returned full of apologies to her guest and Doyle left quickly, having put out the cups as required. When Bodie returned from the garden, Doyle reported the incident.

"Damned old fool. He'll blow the whole thing unless we're careful," Bodie snarled.

"He could blow it anyway, no matter how careful we are. Why couldn't they pack him off to a relative somewhere?"

Well, they'd just have to try to keep out of the old dolt's sight until this was over.

Fortunately the next day was the final day of talks. The delegates would be here for one more night then everyone could breathe a sigh of relief. The agents were still on very high alert. If anything were going to happen it would have to be soon. They were also increasingly tired through stress and broken nights but it wouldn't be long now. They knew Cowley usually gave them a few days off after stretches like these. It was a comforting thought. Although Cowley had showed up that afternoon, allegedly for a social call, his agents still phoned in that evening with an oral report of the day's events. Lord Uppingham had again mistaken Doyle for Freddie and had thought that Bodie was 'that chap who was engaged to that other chap'. Talk about rubbing salt into a wound! Bodie would have kept quiet about that little exchange, but unfortunately Doyle had been in the room at the time, as had a few of the delegates and Lady Emily. She was more crisp with her brother than Bodie was allowed to be, so he was content for her to be his champion. Bodie knew that Doyle would chuckle about this for a while yet.

After reporting in that night on the scrambler, Bodie made a show of snuggling under the duvet and saying, insincerely, how sorry he was that Doyle would have to be making his rounds for the next several hours while he enjoyed the comfort of a good night's sleep.

"Make the most of it, mate. It'll be your turn at 3 o'clock."

Bodie just grinned and closed his eyes. Doyle looked forward to climbing into that warm bed as soon as Bodie got out of it.

Doyle took the grounds first. He alternated his route. He didn't want any watchers to predict his movements. It was a full moon, which was a mixed blessing. He was very cold as he made his way inside after several hours of prowling around the extensive gardens. He was tempted to make himself a cup of tea and put his feet up for a while, but there was a lot of ground to cover and he couldn't afford the luxury. He made do with a glass of water, and then made a start on the lower floor, working his way to the top of the house, then back down again. On his downward journey, he saw a moving shadow. He hid quickly behind a suit of armour. Yes, there it was. He watched the man move furtively along the guest corridor. As the shadow passed him, he recognised it as one of the Palestinian delegates. The man was in his dressing gown and heading for the stairs, not the other bedrooms. Doyle was puzzled. He moved cautiously from his hiding place to wait at the top of the stairs while he worked out where the man was going. His target was just beyond an arm's length but he still didn't detect Doyle's presence. As they moved forward in tandem, there was a yell from the other end of the corridor.

"Stop, or I'll fire!"

Both Doyle and the delegate froze where they were, which was unfortunate as Lord Henry blasted away a second later. The explosion from the blunderbuss reverberated around the stairwell and seemed to ricochet from the walls. The two men reeled backward. Doyle cannoned into the suit of armour, and the crash and clang followed rapidly on from the blast. The delegate cart-wheeled down the stairs, not stopping till he'd reached the bottom. Bodie, on the next floor above, jumped out of bed, still dressed, and thundered downstairs. Lady Emily was nearer of course, and she and the rest of the guests emerged from their various doorways almost simultaneously in various states of undress. She switched the lights on, and the whole ghastly scene was revealed before them. Her brother had excelled himself this time. But Lord Henry was ecstatic.

"Bagged 'em both!" he yelled triumphantly, brandishing his shotgun in the air.

Before Lady Emily could reach him, he accidentally loosed off a further shot and brought down a good piece of Victorian ceiling. Bodie charged past her, nearly knocking her off balance, and tore the gun from the duke's hand before he could do any further damage. He broke the gun over his knee. He didn't trust himself to speak, and Lord Henry cowered against the wall at this unexpected turn of events. Sensing Bodie's rage, Lady Emily silently took the gun off him gently while he kneeled to examine his friend. The delegates watched on with fear and curiosity. Bodie tore open Doyle's black jacket and found the shirt underneath saturated in blood. Bodie sucked his teeth as his friend panted for air.

"You're a colander, Ray Doyle," he said softly, cradling his friend in his arms.

Doyle's eyes fluttered. "Haziz," he murmured.

Bodie looked in confusion at Lady Emily who scanned the crowd behind her for any sign of the delegate. She then looked accusingly at her brother, naked fury in her eyes.

"What have you done with Mr Haziz, Henry?" she demanded imperiously.

"Er, ain't he here my love?" he quailed.

"Stairs," gasped Doyle who was doing his best to keep up.

She glared contemptuously at her brother again before storming down the stairs in a rage where she found the crumpled body of the man in question. Mr Hardy followed in her wake. Since Lord Henry was incapable of decisive action Mr Hardy, as usual, took charge. He examined Mr Haziz for any sign of life. The man groaned and stirred, to the great relief of all concerned. The Palestinians had started to come down the stairs hesitatingly to check their colleague.

"Get a doctor," Lady Emily demanded of no-one in particular.

Mr Hardy, as usual, stepped into the breach and phoned calmly for an ambulance. Working in this household, the butler was used to such shocks and mayhem.

Meanwhile, Bodie had opened Doyle's shirt to get a better look at his condition. Doyle was shivering with shock and losing a lot of blood which Bodie couldn't staunch. Unfortunately he hadn't anything to hand to wrap up his friend to keep him warm.

"Hold on, sunshine," he encouraged, holding him close, trying to share his body warmth.

"I was following Haziz," Doyle gasped.

"I'm afraid Lord Ha-Ha managed to bag him too."

Doyle smiled weakly. "Bad?"

Bodie shrugged, "Alive," was all he could determine for the moment, and he wasn't even sure of that yet.

"If ever a man can make a muck of anything …"

"Save it," Bodie said softly.

However, Doyle wanted Bodie in the picture so he could report to Cowley. "I saw someone creeping along the corridor." Bodie had to wait till Doyle got his breath back from that short sentence. He wanted to keep his friend quiet, but knew he needed his report. "Didn't know who it was at first. He was making for the stairs." Bodie had to wait again till Doyle got his breathing under control. "Then old Blunderbuss let loose the dogs of war." Doyle closed his eyes, panting. Sweat beaded his face. "Probably aiming for Haziz but got me, too. He can't see a hand in front of his face."

"Rest now," Bodie said gently, laying his friend back on to the carpet.

"Yes, sir," Doyle whispered.

Bodie smiled. "I think the cavalry's arriving." He could hear the first very faint stirrings of a siren.

It had been quite a while since the surgeon had had to deal with buckshot but he attacked the problem systematically and professionally. After sewing up his second patient he asked his anaesthetist, half-jokingly, whether his two patients should now have the once-over by a metal detector to check he'd got all the pieces out! His patients made a good recovery - which is more than could be said of the relationship between the siblings Uppingham. Lord Henry was in high dudgeon for weeks, and the staff were under strict orders not to let him near anything that went bang; or sharp objects for that matter. It took even longer for Lady Emily's reputation as a hostess to be repaired, however - a fact which she never failed to remind Henry.

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End file.
